Eyeful of an Island

Islanders here claim to be able to spot mainlanders by the look in their eyes. Once I got into the rhythm of the place, I saw what they meant: People coming in on the mainland ferry had harried eyes. They jumped off hellbent on cramming in too much in as little time as possible, only to be jolted to learn that there’s very little to do here, that Whidbey is for serious unwinding, intense downtime.

Whidbey is tethered to the mainland by a bridge and two ferries, and on a clear day you can make out Seattle squatting on the horizon. But Whidbey has kept its island character, rural and self-sufficient, and still has the power to change its visitors, not the other way around.

I was an accidental visitor in May, when weather canceled my planned visit to Mt. St. Helens. I remembered a friend rhapsodizing about Whidbey, so I turned my rental car north and wound up getting a week’s worth of rest in four days here.

It’s not difficult to pinpoint what makes Whidbey alluring. Foremost is its setting. Here in Puget Sound and in the other water passages that make up America’s upper-left corner on a map, there are more than 200 named islands and hundreds more with no names, rocky outcrops that look like bread crumbs on a navigation chart. Whidbey is the longest, 47 miles of unmeasurable beauty.

Then there’s the fetching, easy attitude of the islanders. They act as if they belong to an exclusive club that requires a certain resolve to be happy living in a postcard.

I stayed at the Whidbey Inn at Langley, a delightful bed-and-breakfast built into a bluff overlooking Saratoga Passage and the mainland, with the snowcapped Cascade Range in the distance.

The first night, a strange noise woke me, an eerie sound, like a mournful cry. If I believed in ghosts, this is what they would sound like, I thought, and for a while, at 3 in the morning, my imagination ran wild.

Although a basket of breakfast--sweet rolls, juice and coffee--was delivered to my door in the morning, I wanted company, so I walked down First Street to the Sapori Cafe.

It was the kind of place where everybody shares in the conversation, so I remarked about the undead whose shrieks haunted my sleep. A local smiled. “You have it half-right with the ghosts,” he explained, “but they’re ghost shrimp. What you heard were whales eating. Whales love shrimp. They dig trenches in the sea bed, take mouthfuls of sand, which is full of shrimp, and spit it out, keeping the shrimp.”

So much for the supernatural.

Langley is the island’s most comely village. Its two main streets, First and Second, are lined by vintage wood buildings selling necessities like books and clothing. Boutiques and galleries are tucked into adjacent alleys. And while the village may seem too bijou at first glance, it oozes character. When the light is just right, Langley could be an Edward Hopper painting come to life.

The much vaunted dot-com millionaires from Seattle, where real estate prices have shot through the roof in recent years, seem to have left Whidbey largely untouched. Listings in a Langley real estate office had prices that would be a steal in Southern California waterfront communities: three-bedroom, two-bath, 1,500-square-foot houses with views, from $165,000 to $225,000 (sunset views cost more than those facing the sunrise).

Unlike the nearby San Juan Islands, which hustle tourist dollars with the zeal of a Carmel or an Aspen, Colo., Whidbey has a low-key attitude about tourism. The island is reputed to have the highest concentration of bed-and-breakfast inns in the state--no big hotels--so tourists are spread out.

Food, especially the fabled Puget Sound seafood, is a major attraction.

In Langley one evening I climbed the stairs to the Star Bistro, a cozy place on the top floor of a 1929 brick building on First Street. The ground floor houses a store run by the Hurlesses, the family who owns the Bistro.

Carol Hurless is an elegant woman who greets diners at the door, pressing specialties like pan-fried Dabob Bay oysters, Dungeness crabs and, if you’re lucky enough to come when it’s in season, as I did, grilled Copper River salmon smothered with a mustard and chive sauce.

When I confessed that Langley was growing on me, Hurless offered to hire me as a bartender and restaurant photographer. A woman who had come here from Maine on vacation and never left said I could have room and board in exchange for carpentry work in the turn-of-the-century house she’s turning into a bed-and-breakfast. Still a mainlander at heart, I declined.

Early one morning I picked up a box lunch at the P. S. Suisse Bakery, a deli in Langley, and drove north past Freeland, a small town with a popular clamming beach, to the Meerkerk Rhododendron Gardens, touted as having the most flowers on an island considered a garden unto itself. I found a pastoral spot where hummingbirds skittered over sweet blooms, and the sound of wind and water running through icy brooks became almost sleep inducing, especially after a hearty picnic lunch.

Finally feeling adjusted to “island time,” I retraced my steps to the west side of the island, curious to see a spot on the map called Useless Bay. It’s a deceptive name. Useless is a fine, wind-swept horseshoe inlet with a white, driftwood-dotted beach.

From there I drove north past the Bush Point lighthouse, through forests of fir, cedar and spruce. The road, Washington 525, runs along the island’s spine at this point, with salt water only a mile or two away on either side. I turned west at the sign for Ft. Casey, built 100 years ago to defend the entrance to Puget Sound. The massive fortification was decommissioned after World War I, and the military presence moved north to Whidbey Island Naval Air Station.

As I meandered north of Ft. Casey, the terrain changed from pine and cedar forests to a landscape out of the Dakotas. Large farms, weathered barns and rolling pastures finally gave way to 19th century Coupeville. The town is surrounded by Ebey’s Landing National Historical Reserve, a home-grown initiative that protects 17,000 acres of forests and farmland from commercial development.

Coupeville is full of brightly painted old houses, many of them Victorian. It’s a small, working-class town with a sense of the authentic and no hint of the pretentious.

In nearby Penn Cove stands the Capt. Whidbey Inn, a 90-year-old cabin made out of madrono logs. Through the years it has been a girls’ school, country store and private residence. Today the Whidbey houses guests in its main building and in surrounding cabins almost hidden in the pines.

The restaurant has a sweeping view of the cove and a weathered dock below, where the owner’s salty 53-foot ketch is moored and available for cruises.

I was there for what the inn’s menu calls the tastiest mussels on Whidbey. They were great--fat, juicy and spiced to perfection--as befits a restaurant within sight of the largest mussel farm in the Northwest.

I usually began my days by walking from the Whidbey Inn to the Langley boat harbor, where a sailor who once lived in Southern California told me over coffee to avoid the San Juan Islands because they are too touristy.

I’d heard that from other locals and remarked that Whidbey was probably no better during the peak summer season.

‘You’re wrong,” he countered. “Even during the busiest time of year, the longest I’ve waited for one of the cats was a three-boat wait.”

Cats? Three-boat wait?

He explained that the two ferries making the run from Clinton to Mukilteo on the mainland are named Kittitas and Cathlamet, “kit” and “cat.” The ferries sail every 30 minutes, so a three-boat wait converts to 90 minutes.

That seemed like a long wait to me, but the sailor went on to swear that the wait in the San Juans could be eight hours.

“Stay on Whidbey, man,” he said. “What’s the hurry?”

Hurrying was the last thing on my mind later that day as I drove north on the island to Deception Pass, the narrow channel separating Whidbey from Fidalgo Island. A few miles beyond, the highway, Washington 20, turns east to connect to the mainland.

Deception is a treacherous waterway full of eddies and undercurrents, spanned by a handsome suspension bridge. Although walking across can be an acrophobe’s nightmare, there’s no better way to get a perspective of the harmony between land and sea than from the middle of the bridge.

Deception State Park on the Whidbey side has 19 miles of shoreline, trails and campgrounds. It was relaxing to sit on the banks of the park’s Cranberry Lake, watching fishermen suspended in inner tubes casting lines in the water.

A few miles south of Deception lies Oak Harbor, Whidbey’s largest town, with 20,000 residents, a hospital, malls and a computer-assembly plant. The town is also home to the naval air station, and many residents are retired Navy personnel.

If you want to experience Whidbey at its fullest, forget about maps and guidebooks; just crisscross the island and find delights where least expected.

I stumbled upon such a treat one morning when driving completely lost on a country lane about two miles north of Langley. After a rise through a cedar forest, I found an elegant and stately wooden structure with an octagon dome on a bluff overlooking the water. It’s the Log Castle, a classy little B&B; built and owned by the local congressman, Jack Metcalf. He is retiring this year and reportedly plans to move back.

What I find hard to understand is how anyone whose home is Whidbey ever could leave it in the first place.

(BEGIN TEXT OF INFOBOX / INFOGRAPHIC)

GUIDEBOOK

Seeing Whidbey

Getting there: Alaska and United airlines fly nonstop from LAX to Seattle. Restricted round-trip fares start at $238.

From Seattle, drive on Interstate 5 north to Mukilteo, about 30 miles, and take the ferry to Clinton. It departs every 30 minutes; fare, $5 per car. Alternatively, drive north from Seattle on I-5, west to Washington 20, which becomes Washington 525 halfway down Whidbey Island. A ferry at that junction goes to Port Townsend on the Olympic Peninsula.

Where to stay: The Whidbey Inn, 106 1st St., Langley, has six rooms overlooking Saratoga Passage. Breakfast served in-room. Rates run from $120 to $175. Telephone (888) 313-2070; Internet https://www.whidbeyinn.com.

The Inn at Langley, 400 1st St., has 24 rooms and two cottages on the water. Rates start at $199. Tel. (360) 221-3033, Internet https://www.innatlangley.com.

The Boatyard Inn, 200 Wharf St., has 10 water-view rooms from $165 to $210. Tel. (360) 221-5120, Internet https://www.boatyardinn.com.

The South Whidbey Information and Referral Service, tel. (360) 221-6765, lists local lodgings and availability.

Where to eat: Capt. Whidbey Inn, Penn Cove, three miles west of Coupeville. Local tel. 678-4097.

Trattoria Giuseppe, Highway 525 and Langley Road, Langley. Serves elegant Italian dinners with a Northwest touch. Tel. 341-3454.

Star Bistro, 202 1/2 1st St., Langley. Tel. 221-2627.

For more information: Washington State Tourism, P.O. Box 42500, Olympia, WA 98504-2500; tel. (800) 544-1800, fax (360) 753-4470, Internet https://www.experiencewashington.com.

Washington State Hotel & Motel Assn. online guide: https://www.travel-in-wa.com.